


Shake your money maker

by sistabro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: salt_burn_porn, Demonic Possession, Masturbation, Non Consensual, Other, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2011-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sistabro/pseuds/sistabro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel for 2.14 Born Under a Bad Sign. Meg prefers female hosts, but for Sam Winchester, she'll make an exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake your money maker

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** demonic possession, noncon masturbation, dirty talk about off-screen extreme underage noncon followed by murder and necrophilia, inappropriate use of a cellphone, highly disturbing.
> 
>  **Author's Notes:** Written for [salt_burn_porn](http://salt_burn_porn.livejournal.com) for [whithertits](http://whithertits.livejournal.com)'s prompt run this town, which apparently made me think of demons, which then led to.. this. Also, the running about town is more of a metaphor and/or implied to occur at some other time than this story. Whoops. And, thank you [moragmacpherson](http://moragmacpherson.livejournal.com), [callowyn](http://callowyn.livejournal.com), [kalliel](http://kalliel.livejournal.com), and [twoskeletons](http://twoskeletons.livejournal.com) for the hand holding and betaing. This is disturbing as all get out people, I am not kidding here. *points at warnings*

Nothing like the slick slide into new meat after so long without. But this one knows the drill, doesn't bother with the screaming and heads right for the Latin. She's never worn one that could do that before and she shuts it down quick. It's disappointing — the screaming is one of her favorite parts — but no point taking chances. Not yet.

Muscles and tendons pull against bone as she twists, examining her new suit, stroking the firm flesh. She's always preferred women, but even she has to admit that this one really is a fine specimen; even through the layers she can feel the definition of his abs.

She bends a little, peers into the grimy mirror and gives a little wave with one of her new giant hands. "Hey there, Sam. Long time no see." Turns off the mental mute for a moment, but he starts up with the Latin again so she slaps the muzzle back on.

"Tsk. You know I'm not gonna let you get away with that again. Not that you could: no devil's trap or ropes to hold me down here."

She can feel when he figures it out, the jolt of surprise and then the oily slick of hatred. Delicious. Lets him talk just for the satisfaction of hearing him say it.

_"Meg."_

"Not any more, Sam. Now I'm you. And I'd love to chat, but Dean's waiting."

She basks for a moment in Sam's terror and rage, then shuts him down completely. Later, there will be time to play with her new toy, but for now, she has work to do.

With a sigh, she sinks until she's wallowing in the essence of Sam: memories, emotion, little remnants of abandoned thought. Throws it over her darkness like a mask, a filter between her will and the world. A corset pulled too tight to look pretty for Dean.

She smiles wide in the mirror, just to try out the dimples, then flips to a hangdog, dewy, sensitive look; lets muscle memory make it natural, make it _Sam._. Perfect. She gives the body a quick shake to help it settle into its established patterns and then steps out of the restroom into the Texas sunshine.

 

_Three days later, Otter Creek, IA_

It takes everything she has not to slam the motel door behind her.

She's been itching to slit Dean's throat in the car for the last three days, only managed to resist because it would be too good for him, too quick. But she is _done._ This is close enough to Wandell — not so close that Dean will stumble upon her before she's ready, not so far that he can't get there quickly once she sends for him — and the very thought of another Metallica marathon almost makes her want to let Sam exorcise her. Speaking of which, she has some errands to run before the fun begins.

 

Almost two hours later, she appears in the motel room next door to the Winchester's. The car has been abandoned in front of a diner down the road, as if Sam really had gone for breakfast like the note she'd left said. Four states over, an entire family should have just be finished dripping their last drops of blood all over their pristine white carpet, strung up like pigs over their mantel. The fire she used to heat the irons is probably still burning merrily away below them.

She smiles and flexes Sam's forearm, the throbbing ache from the fresh brand flaring into a delightful stabbing pain. She starts to pace, getting a feel for how much... closer the body is now, more sensitive and responsive and _hers._ For the first time since the restroom in Texas, she wakes Sam up. It feels magnificent, like relaxing a muscle that's been held tight too long.

She keeps quiet, hides herself as Sam fumbles around in his own head, clumsy after so long in the dark. He tries to speak, trip them up, twitch a finger. Fails. Frustration then wariness sweep in waves, heady and so much more intense then before. Then the chanting starts, in her head but clear and strong and with every once of Sam's considerable will behind it.

_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica--_

She can feel the power in the words, whole body bubbling like it's turning to champagne, but she doesn't stop him. Has to know the binding will work and it's better to find out now when she knows where Dean is so she can jump ship and go for plan B.

By the time he finishes with a desperate _audi nos_ , it feels like her blood is full of bees and there are termites in her bones, but she's still there, locked inside.

She laughs, soft and low, triumphant. "Sorry, Sam. I'm running this joint now. You're not going anywhere til I say so, and I'm thinking that may be never. Because I know what you are, Sam, and there are plenty of people and otherwise out there who will do just about anything to get their hands on you."

A tasty swirl of anger and curiosity, stubbornness keeping him silent. Almost better than cigarettes.

The phone in her back pocket vibrates and she steps forward, presses an ear to the wall.

 _Buzz buzz_ , then, through the wall: "Dude, did you get lost or something. Hurry up with the food, I'm starving."

_Dean._

Such longing, such desperation.

"So close, Sam," she whispers. "One little shout to send big brother running to the rescue. It kills you that you can't, doesn't it? That you're not quite strong enough to break free."

She backs away and flops down the on the bed. "Maybe if I'm distracted, hmm? Maybe then you'll sneak a yell in? I haven't gotten to play yet at all, you know. Maybe that will be distracting enough? Give you the opening you need? Why don't we find out."

She runs her hands over her firm chest. "Do you remember when I did this the first time? You and your brother tied up and squirming." She trails a hand down and presses slow circles over her dick. "Sat in your lap and rocked my hips just like this. I remember how hard you got for me. You liked that, didn't you? Tied up and your brother watching."

She scoots up the bed and props herself up with some pillows so she can see. Unzips her jeans and pulls out her dick, just barely starting to harden and covered with dried blood, girl slick, and semen. Feels Sam recoil in horror and confusion.

"Sorry about the mess, Sam. Didn't really have a chance to get cleaned up." Presses down on her cock, feels the edges of the zipper bite a little before cupping it in one of her giant hands and starting to squeeze. "Had a little errand to take care of, you see. Needed some blood from a freshly broken virgin —found a pretty little girl, twelve years old. Only took one hand to hold her steady, she was so small. Little pudge of baby fat soft and squishy under your fingers, hairless cunt making it so easy to see everything. She screamed so pretty when you shoved your big cock in her tiny, dry cunt. Tore inside and out like you shoved a knife inside of her instead of just your cock."

She squeezes tighter, feels her dick come to full hardness while Sam cringes in horror, little moans of _no no no no_ like a drumbeat in her head. Guys are so fucking easy: all they need is a little friction in the right place. Usually she finds that boring, but Sam, Sam is an exception and exceptional. She opens her hand to admire her long, thick, filthy penis for a moment, then starts up again with a quick, painful squeeze, nails digging in along the shaft.

"Blond and blue eyed, looked a little like your Jess did as a kid in those pictures she used to show you. Such a pretty little tiny thing, your Jess, just like this girl." She starts to stroke properly, slowly, little bits of dried blood flaking off in places.

"She screamed, Sam, cried and begged when you fucked your big cock into her. Screamed more than when she watched me slit her daddy's throat. All this blood on your cock, from her little virgin cunt, it hardly slicked her up at all, just painted her thighs and your dick such a pretty, pretty red. So tight— " she squeezes brutally, her whole body jerking, instictively trying to curl around the pain, "—just like that, all tight and hot and wriggling on your big fat cock."

Sam's horrified rage is a tidal wave, an aching pressure inside that would be enough to push her out if it weren't for the binding. Such a special, special boy. She had been right to keep him under, would have been too risky. This is almost as much fun as the real thing anyways.

She loosens her grip into something more comfortable with a contented sigh. "Didn't scream much after I slit her throat, though. Fucked the blood right out of her. Made such a mess, just look at your shirt." She looks down to let him see the rusty stains covering the entire front of the ugly paisley shirt.

"But the end, when she gurgled her last, that was the best. The feel of her clenching around your cock, coming as she died. Turns out slitting her windpipe worked just as well for that as a noose around her neck. Nice trick to remember for next time. Died a little too quickly, but she was still mostly warm when you finally came inside of her."

A few drops of precum squeeze out of the head and she rubs them around the shaft with her thumb, watching the dried blood moisten and start to smear.

Her ass vibrates. Dean again. She stops jacking off for a moment to fish the phone out of her back pocket; it dances like a jitter bug in her hand.

"Think Dean's getting a little worried now. All you need to do is shout, Sam. The walls are thin." Smiles at he snarls in response.

The phone stops. She sets it down and takes a moment pull her pants down a bit for a little more room to work. Switches hands this time to the freshly branded one. It hurts, squeezing and pumping his arm, the scrape of the fabric against hot inflamed skin. Sam's dick jumps to attention, balls tightening. She squeezes the base hard, not ready to come.

"Like it a little rough, Sam? Cause all I'm doing is providing a little stimulation. That hard-on is all you. Getting off on raping little girls and burning yourself? You and I are gonna have a fine time, I think."

The phone rings again, _buzz buzz_. She picks it up and presses it against her balls, sliding it down and back until the end of the phone sits right on her perineum. _Buzz buzz_ , it feels fantastic, balls and cock and ass all tingling. "There's Dean again. What would he think, making you feel so good like this?"

She starts thrusting her hips a little, dick now sloppy and pulsing and very, very hard, throbbing in time with the brand on her arm. It's been so long, she's forgotten how straightforward male arousal is. She misses the hungry clench of a cunt, but this has its own appeal. Urgent, focused, and a lovely visual to boot.

She lets the moan that's been building in her chest break free, loud enough that Dean can probably hear it. "Does Dean know what you sound like when you come, Sam? All those years living in each other's space, sharing a room. Did you jack off together under the sheets in the dark? If I let you scream when you come, will he know it's you? Because you want to scream, Sam, I can feel it. You're so turned on now, you can't even think any more. Can't remember that you don't want this."

She tightens her fist and lets the body do its thing. Makes sure Sam feels her loosen the reigns on everything but her hand. Just moans and gasps, no need for words or taunts. Sam's body is forsaking him just fine on its own. There's no rhythm anymore, just desperation and need, the primal chase towards release.

The phone vibrates, _buzz buzz, buzz buzz_ right up against her balls, and that's it. She comes gasping Dean's name, everything graying out in the wash of pleasure and pain.

She takes control again as her hips settle back onto the bed. Jacks through the aftershocks and beyond, until it feels like the skin on her dick has rubbed right off. Keeps at it until she hears the door next door slam, phone buzzing up against her ass now, dropped when she came.

She opens her hand and admires the red, limp, dirty dick laying across her palm for a moment, then pulls her pants back up and tucks it away.

"I think you and I are are going to have a lot fun together, Sam." Gets up and peers out the window, verifying that Dean's out of sight. "But first, new clothes. Can't go out on the town all covered in blood, now, can we?"

And with that she walks out of the room. She whistles as she unlocks the door Dean just left, snags a few of Sam's least ugly shirts, his tightest jeans and some socks from his duffel. "I'm all tingly inside just thinking about how much fun we're going to have together, Sam. Just you wait."

She steps outside, locks the door behind her, and disappears.


End file.
